


No Stopping

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Season 14 Inspired [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 14x11 Coda, Angst, Clueless Castiel, Coda, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, Dean resigned to his fate, Depressing, Episode: s14e11 Damaged Goods, M/M, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 21:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17536502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Sam agreed to help Dean. But if he wants his help, Dean needs to play by some of Sam's rules. There's something he's unwilling to do, and Sam wants to know why. Maybe it could be a way to help his brother... or break him.





	No Stopping

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly? Not my favorite episode. It was okay, and I'm glad the Nick arc is over, but... feelings about it? meh.
> 
> Like I was so uninspired I almost didn't write a coda for it. But just when I was going to throw in the towel this little baby hit me. So enjoy!

            Sam tried concentrating, but it was too distracting. Everything about their library, a space he could normally keep his head down and work for hours in, drew his attention away. The lights hummed at too high a pitch, the temperature shifted between the heat and cold at random intervals, or Dean flipped a page too loudly: all served to further annoy him. It hit a pitch when Dean coughed. Sam slammed his book closed. “Dean,” he sighed, “Could you… _please_ … I’m trying to read.”

            Dean cast him a weird glance; brows snapping together, forehead creased. “Uh… okay? I’m not stopping you?” He turned the page again, much softer. “Would you like me to stop _breathing_?”

            “Really? Could you not make jokes like… _that._ ”

            “…Right.”

            He still wasn’t comfortable with Dean’s plan. Can’t wrap his head around his motivation, or believe it was their _only_ option. But if Sam wants any chance of somehow saving his brother, he’ll need to be by his side until the very end. ‘ _But can you really do it?_ ’ a suspiciously Nick-sounding voice in his head says, ‘ _How can you save someone who doesn’t want to be saved? Who doesn’t think he’s broken?_ ’ He sighed, reopening his book.

            “You all right?”

            “Yeah, yeah…” he said, “Just these… _translations_. Can’t make heads or tails of them.”

            “Well maybe I can help?” Castiel stepped into the room, then, looking between the brothers.

            Dean, almost immediately, shifted. His arm sweeps across his research materials, blocking them from sight. And he forces a grin onto his face, voice booming loudly, “Cas! What are you doing here?”

            Cas skewed his head to the right. “Well, I _do_ live here, Dean.”

            “Right, right…” Dean turned to Sam, eyes pleading for help.

            Sam, after rolling his eyes, cleared his throat. “I think what Dean meant was… what are you doing back so _soon_?”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Dean nodded along, “Why are you… _that_.”

            Cas glanced between the two – ‘ _probably trying to decide who to talk to_.’ Sam was surprised when the angel directed his answer to him. “Jack and I finished our hunt a day early, so we drove back. In time to help, apparently.” He snuck a quick peek at Dean again before returning to Sam. “What are you translating?”

            “It’s –“

            “It’s nothing too serious, Cas,” Dean talked over him, “Some Latin. I think Sam here has been overdoing it with the research though. Maybe after a little rest he’ll be all better…” Sam wanted to correct him, but the glare he was shot made him freeze. Dean was throwing pure ice; colder than any winter spent in a thin-walled motel. “Isn’t that right, _Sam_?”

            “…Yeah.” He blinked, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s all. We don’t need it now.”

            Cas stepped closer, squinting. “Are you sure?”

            Dean stood, reaching him first. “Cas, if you _really_ want to help… it _has_ been a while since either of us have eaten.”

            “…Really?”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, “We’d appreciate it a lot if you could whip something up? Maybe burgers?”

            “I can’t make burgers, Dean,” Cas told him, “But I can do… soup?”

            “Soup! Soup is good!” He looked to Sam. “Isn’t that right?”

            Spurred into action, Sam agreed with Dean. “Yeah, I could go for some… _soup_.”

            “Okay, then?” Cas inched even closer to Dean, staring at him in the way he does best. Sam waited, wondering what would happen. His brother didn’t pull back, standing his ground as their friend passed the point of comfort in terms of personal space. Like always, he counted the seconds until one of them spoke. Each one that passed was charged with a strange energy Sam has never seen Dean share with anyone else. “Dean,” Cas whispered, “Are you okay?”

            “I – um… I…” Dean shied away, then, “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

            “Dean –“

            “Cas, please… not now.”

            “…Okay.” Cas walked back. “I’ll start on the soup… shouldn’t be _too_ long.”

            “Thanks Cas.” He kept standing until Cas rounded the corner. Sagging against the table’s edge, Dean scrubbed a hand down his face before retaking his seat. Sam stared at him until he looked up. “What?”

            “What? Dean… what was _that_?”

            He shrugged. “I think it was pretty obvious, Sam.”

            “Yeah, you were giving Cas the _run around_!” Sam was hissed at, Dean motioning for him speak quieter. He did so, reluctantly. “What the hell? Were you not going to tell him the truth, too?”

            “I was gonna tell him… _something_.”

            “Something?” Sam scoffed, “Oh, or were you going to just leave him without saying goodbye, too?” He shook his head, “Christ, Dean…”

            “It’s… it’s complicated, Sam –“

            “Is it, Dean?” he asked, “A part of our lives is complicated, what else is new? You can keep Cas or... everyone else in our lives in the dark. But if you’re planning on doing this – if you want _me_ to help _you_ – then you have to be _honest_.”

            “I will be Sam, I… I’ll tell him – tell them _all_. I just…” he dragged another hand down his face, “Not yet. There’s… there’s still so much that could…”

            “That could what, Dean? What are you…” Sam stilled, the flickering bulb in his head shining at full strength. “Oh,” he said, “ _Wow_.”

            “Wow?” Dean asked, “Wow _what_?”

            “You…” Sam huffed, “I thought you said I was the only one who could stop you?”

            His words struck deep. In response, Dean dialed up the fury in his eyes. With hands splayed across the table, his voice shook with a raw ferocity - ‘ _Like a lion_.’ “You _are_ ,” he said, “I could tell Cas and still _want_ to do this, but -”

            “Then _do_ it.”

            “…I can’t, Sammy, could you _please_ drop it?”

            “No, Dean, I want to know why you can’t –“

            “Because I can’t do it to him, Sam! I can’t! Not again!” Dean’s jaw clenched tight, the air slowly leaking out as his body sagged with exhaustion. “I… I can’t tell him and then… look at him _after_. Pretend that everything is _okay_ … Not get lost on the ‘what if’s’ and ‘coulda beens’. I mean… do you know what that’d _do_ to me?”

            Sam thought he _did_. “It’d be enough to stop you?”

            Dean barked out a tired laugh. “No… but it’d be enough to free _him_.”

            He gulped. “Dean, you can’t… you can’t be –“

            “Sam, he’s already straining at the chains,” Dean cried, “I can _feel_ it. It’s taking so much of me already to…” He breathed in deeply, straightening his posture. “Trust me. Cas? …It’s better for everyone if he doesn’t know. Until the end… or maybe –“

            “Maybe _never_ ,” Sam finished for him. “Dean… that’s not going to end well.”

            “It doesn’t end well, ever,” Dean told him, “But that’s how the book’s written. We stray from a single letter, then we’re all _damned_.” He returned to his book, but Sam wouldn’t let him go easy.

            “Did the book say why?” Sam asked, “I mean… if it has _all_ the answers.”

            He didn’t expect a response. Dean gave him one anyway. “You know how love seemed like the answer in every book or movie we had growing up? Turns out they were all wrong. Love can make things worse for everyone. Which is why people like _me_ can _never_ have it.” His eyes never strayed from the book, but Sam saw a single tear drip onto the page. “Now I don’t want to hear you mention _any_ of this to Cas, capishe?”

            “…Yeah, I got it.”

            “Good.”

            They went back to work in silence. Although there was none for Sam, too distracted by so many other things. The buzzing of the lights, the temperature, Dean’s loud page turning, Dean’s almost confession, Dean’s guilt, _Dean_. ‘ _How can you save someone who doesn’t want to be saved? How can you love someone who doesn’t believe he deserves love?_ ’

            Cas carried a tray in moments later, and Sam took his bowl as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> You like? You feel sad? Good. Let me know!


End file.
